


bruises

by sleeponrooftops



Series: lifeboats [6]
Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Mike knows is taking care of his brothers, and it never occurs to him that they might need to take care of him someday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bruises

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually putting a trigger warning on this one, both in this note and as a tag. There is mention of child abuse (physical) in this one, though it’s not graphic or really explained at all.

Grandpa’s words prove true, and Mike finds himself getting up in the middle of the night to take Ty from his crib and walk him around the house, bouncing him and whispering softly to him.  He always quiets down relatively quietly, and Mike goes to the rocking chair once he’s done crying, waiting until he’s fallen asleep again before he puts him back in the crib.  He does okay at school the first couple weeks like this, but then his teacher sends him down to the guidance counselor when she catches him falling asleep for the third time.

 

Mike sits and waits to be called in, thinking about the last time he was here, his first week of school, worrying himself into a fit about Anders, and now all he can think about is Ty and if his mother actually remembered that she has to stay home because he’s still a baby.  When he gets called in, the counselor smiles at him and waits for him to take a seat before asking, “Are you not sleeping well at home, Mike?  Your teacher says this is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class.”

 

“Ty keeps waking up in the middle of the night, and he won’t go back to sleep until I walk him around the house a couple times.”

 

“Did your mother have a new baby?  I thought Anders was your brother.”

 

“He is.  Anders is four now, and Ty was born a few weeks ago.”

 

“Does he sleep in your room?”

 

“Yeah, he and Anders do.”

 

“Does your mum ever take him when he wakes at night?”

 

“No, she’s always asleep.  I don’t mind.  I love my brothers, I’m just tired in the morning.”

 

“Mike, you don’t have to wake up when your brother does.  That’s for your mum to do.  Why don’t I give your parents a call and—”

 

“No!” Mike exclaims, thinking about the last time and how Anders had stared at their father, so close to tears, and Mike doesn’t want to see that fear in his eyes again, never again.  “It’s okay, I’ll talk to my mum when I get home.  I promise.”

 

He doesn’t wait for the counselor to say anything more before he slides off the seat and hurries from the room, not looking back.  He has no plans to talk to his mum, and he manages to keep himself awake by pinching his arms and legs until he gets caught doing that, and he’s forced to sit in the counselor’s office while she speaks on the phone with his father.

 

When he gets home after school, Anders is waiting in the window, but he looks scared, and Mike jogs the rest of the way down the street and hurries inside, dropping his backpack before he turns the corner into the living room.  “Mikey,” Anders says with a wobbly lip, standing and holding out his arms.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mike asks as he takes his little brother into his arms and holds him tight, rubbing a hand over his back as Anders buries his face in his neck.

 

“Daddy’s home,” Anders mumbles, tears leaking from his eyes and wetting Mike’s jacket.

 

Mike frowns, setting Anders on the ground and kneeling so that he’s at eye level with him.  He starts to say something, but then he notices how swollen the fingers on Anders’ right hand are, and he carefully takes his wrist, holding his hand up.  “Did dad do this?” he asks quietly, and Anders nods, taking in a shaky breath.  “Come here,” Mike whispers, pulling Anders back toward him and hugging him.  When he pulls away again, he wipes Anders’ face dry, kisses him on the forehead, and says, “Can you go upstairs and check on Ty?  I’m going to go talk to dad, but I want you to stay in our room, okay?  Lock the door, and don’t come out, no matter what.”

 

“But, Mikey,” Ander says, trembling.

 

“But nothing,” Mike says, forcing himself to smile, “Go upstairs.  Lock the door.  _Stay there_.”

 

Anders nods after a second, hugs Mike a last time, and then hurries from the room.  Mike stands, watching him go, and he waits until he hears their bedroom door close and lock before he goes into the kitchen, where his father is sitting at the table, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and his head in the other.  “You,” he growls when Mike steps into the room.

 

“Hi, dad,” he says quietly, and his father lurches to his feet, drains his drink, and throws the glass at Mike.  He ducks out of the way, and the glass shatters on the kitchen wall.  Mike stares up at his father with wide eyes, fear running rampant through him, and he lets out this broken noise when his father grabs his shoulder and shoves him up against the dripping wall.

 

“How _dare_ you embarrass this family like that,” his father spits in his face, “If you don’t cut this shit out, I’ll put you out of school, and I’ll send you to your aunt’s, and you’ll _never_ see your brothers again!”

 

Mike’s retort dies in his throat at these words, and he sinks against the wall, staring at his father with hollow eyes.  “Okay,” he mumbles, and it’s the wrong thing to say.  He prays and chants in his head that Anders will listen to him and stay upstairs with Ty, and he lets out a little sob of relief when it’s finally over and he’s alone in the kitchen.  The front door slams, and Mike picks himself up off the ground, tears streaming down his face as he stumbles from the kitchen and toward the stairs.

 

He doesn’t remember how he gets upstairs, but suddenly Anders is opening their door, and Mike is falling onto the floor, and Ty is crying, and Mike blacks out.

 

When he wakes up, he’s in his own bed, and he’s alone.  His body aches when he sits up, but he’s not bleeding anymore, and someone has changed him into his pajamas.  He can hear Anders’ voice drifting upstairs, and then Ty giggles softly, and Mike swings his legs out of bed, carefully crossing the room and heading out into the house.  When he gets downstairs and steps into the kitchen, Anders is sitting on the counter, legs swinging, chattering away while grandpa makes soup.  Ty is in a high chair, slapping his hands over cheerios.  Anders gives a shout when he sees Mike, squirming toward the edge of the counter, and grandpa scoops him up and sets him down on the floor so Anders can run over.  He stops when he reaches Mike, look uncertainly at him, and Mike knows that he’s worried about hurting him like their father did.

 

“Come here,” Mike murmurs, pulling his little brother toward him.

 

“I called grandpa,” Anders mumbles when he’s snug inside Mike’s hug, “And he came over and helped.  We’re making soup cos he said that would be nice.  Even Ty was good.”

 

“Thank you,” Mike whispers, squeezing Anders tightly.  He never thought his brothers would ever have to take care of him, and he vows to never let them need to again.


End file.
